


Escher Permutations

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1989, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy Hargrove Is Alive Because I Say So, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Queer Character, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance, Roommates, San Francisco, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Trans Billy Hargrove, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: The item in the paper only calls for a legal adult non-smoker, which is the least high-maintenance description of an applicant she's found yet.(Or, Billy answers an ad for a roommate.)
Relationships: Robin Buckley/Billy Hargrove
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Escher Permutations

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this when I was stupidly overwhelmed with everything in mid-June, and now I finally come bearing something completely different, but also, like, somehow the same crap I usually peddle.
> 
> Posting as I write. Probably going to be a series of slice of life vignettes where they get together by the end. Will get Explicit in later chapters, hence the rating. Welcome to me being a disorganised mess yet again. WINK WINK

It's the fucking tattoo which gives her away.

Fucking figures. _Fuck._

*

It's mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and Billy is fucking tired. Her ankles are tired (and swollen), her head is tired (and throbbing), and, as far as she's concerned, her _personality_ is tired. Making inane small talk for hours while endeavouring to ingratiate herself with prospective roommates does that to a person. But the last stop for the day is on the way back to her current so-called abode, also known as a cockroach factory in the making, so there's no actual reason not to check it out. And, besides, the item in the paper only calls for a legal adult non-smoker, which is the least high-maintenance description of an applicant she's found yet. Keeping her expectations in check is not an issue, but it bodes well regardless.

Since the two-bedroom is on the second floor, she takes the stairs rather than wait for an elevator, impatience winning out over her aching instep. Having checked the registry in the lobby, it's easy enough to find the apartment number from the first name matching the one in the ad—Robin. The front door, a pale blue lacquered wood, is the farthest from the mouth of the stairs, the number fourteen embossed expensively at just above eye level. The taped bit of lined paper has the words COME IN scribbled messily by way of an invitation.

Billy does.

There's a welcome mat both outside the front door and on the inside of it. She wipes her shoes on both, feeling slightly ridiculous, but first impressions, yadda yadda, Billy is doing her best over here. The sleeveless summer dress hits just above knee level and her shoes are predictably boring—the picture of respectability, Billy Hargrove is. Unfortunately, there's no one around to be suitably impressed with their normalcy.

"Uh," she starts, about to call out for someone lest she stumbled into the wrong apartment somehow, but a noise from the first open doorway on the left gets her attention. It sounds like a water fountain. A girlish shriek swiftly follows it, and Billy follows the sounds, fully prepared for absolute weirdness.

She's greeted with the sight of a chick losing a fight with a faucet before the water promptly turns off with a much louder bang than Billy's used to hearing coming from the general direction of a kitchen sink.

She's about to make her presence known when the girl turns around, and Billy immediately feels the blood draining from her face and her knees threatening to buckle, exhaustion and panic hitting at the same time to form a cocktail of the wrong kind of adrenaline and shooting it straight to her heart. It must show because Robin— _that Robin_ —gives her a strange look, before she glances, almost absently, at Billy's right bicep, and recognition flares just as quickly for her as well.

"Uh," Robin says. Her shirt is soaked through and very see-through, and Billy absently notices her bra has little daisies on it, which is absolutely stupid, hardly the sort of thing a grown adult should be wearing, and all right, Billy's brain is officially in overdrive, has completely lost it what with the overwhelming panic and all.

"Billy?" Robin finally manages, and Billy nods because she might as well. No point in pretending.

She mutters, "I saw your ad," and she brandishes the newspaper as proof, waving it weakly about. As if there's any other way in which she could have found herself inside this apartment.

"Oh." Then, "Do you want the tour?" If Billy didn't know any better, she'd think Robin's trying for a smile, though it looks vaguely constipated.

She's dripping onto the linoleum. After a beat, Billy finds herself nodding.

*

The tour is painfully awkward. No surprise there.

By the end of it, Robin's shirt has dried (Billy sees no reason why she shouldn't have changed her clothes first, although perhaps she cottoned on that Billy was going to make a run for it if left on her own for even a second) as she's shown Billy all the rooms, of which there are two bedrooms and an open-floor area containing the living room and kitchen, several times in a row for no apparent reason. She must be aware they wasted twenty extra minutes in all, not that Billy's about to call her out on it.

"I don't want to, uh, dream away the time. If you're in a hurry." They're standing by the refrigerator, which sits in the doorway to the kitchen. There's a big puddle of water in front of it. Billy's surprised there's no visible mold.

"I can't keep my current place on my own. Could hardly afford it _with_ a roommate. So, uh, if you're sure—"

"Yeah. Yes," Robin hurries to reassure her. "There's some other people interested, but I'll give you a call either way."

"Uh huh." The doubt creeps in. She can't help it.

"Either way, if I go with someone else, I'll give you a call," she eyes her meaningfully. Although Billy isn't sure what that's about, she nods anyway. Seems like an acknowledgement is in order.

Robin's not going to call. Billy has a pretty good memory of what went down four summers ago. After the post-return cobwebs blew away, she started getting flashes of events and people and the anger. Odds are Robin's recollections are startlingly more vivid. Billy wouldn't blame her if she never fucking called. Stands to reason she wouldn't.

*

Robin calls.

Billy gets a new roommate. Or Robin does. Both.

It's fucking wild.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
